At about 2am the lights came on in our room. There was much shouting and bawling. We all were to get ready within the hour and get into the trucks. Nobody had any idea what was up.
We were off-loaded in a snowy landscape and were told to dig in facing south and to expect the enemy before the morning came. Nothing happened (thankfully). We had about eight hours 鈥渟tood to鈥 activity and we were joined by a Vickers gun contingent (The Middlesex Regiment). I had a friend called Capper who had come from a similar background to me. We made friends with two old people who invited us into their house when they saw us sitting on their step in the pouring rain. The village was called Hammille, a few miles south of Louvain. They told us the news (ex 大象传媒). The 鈥淏oche鈥 had broken through the American lines and were pushing north to Antwerp. Clearly we were, as we had been advised, the last soldiers between the River Meuse and Antwerp. Nothing in the event happened.
We stayed at this village over Christmas 1944 and I, with some others, walked through the snow to Midnight Mass. The R.C. Padre gave a sermon with an unexpected theme. He enjoined us not to commit wilful murder (i.e. shooting surrendered Germans).
Shortly afterwards we were on the move again. This time we went south to the Belgian province of Luxembourg 鈥 well into Walloon country. After we crossed the River Meuse (same as the River Maas before) there was a large flat plain on the other side of the river. There were about 20-30 鈥渂rewed-up鈥 tanks, mostly German. This was clearly where the German advance had halted. I found out later the tanks were from the 7th Armoured Division.
We ended up in a town called Hotton and there we loafed about for several days. We got on well with the villagers and were to see a secured pig slaughtered with an axe.
Then we were off again. Our trucks put us off about 10 miles from our intended destination. We plodded on in the usual single file, British way, while truck after truck, full of American troops came the other way. We were such a small force and about five times as many U.S. troops were leaving.
We were put in deep woodlands (not far from Bastogne and Houffalize - where U.S. troops were executed by the Germans 鈥 to great American indignation). We were there for about 10 days or so. It was terribly cold being in one or two feet of snow (we were over 1500ft contour level). However, two events took place which lifted our spirits. Capper and I won a lottery and got 48 hours leave in Brussels and we captured a German half-track truck ((think the driver wanted to surrender). It was full of blankets 鈥 just what we needed 鈥 so we made a sort of sleeping 鈥減it鈥.
Capper and I were collected by truck and taken to Brussels. We were put into lodgings 鈥 a lovely old lady who fed us very well and put us into a room with a massive double bed. We were, of course, filthy and unshaven and to have a hot bath was marvellous. The crisp white sheets too 鈥 we spent most of the time available in bed! We didn鈥檛 go into Brussels. I did have a photo taken to send home.
After the 鈥淏attle of the Bulge鈥 ended we went near Namur.
Before closing the Ardennes experience I would like to compare how we were treated in contrast to the Americans. What I remember most is the difference in 鈥渟upport鈥. Everyday the 鈥渃ook house jeep鈥 would turn up about noon to bring us several 鈥渄ixies鈥 (5 gallons or so) of stew and vegetables, plus local white bread (heaven). The poor Yanks got no food like this. They just got issued with 鈥渃ompo packs鈥 (popular with the distressed Germans after the peace). It contained about ten biscuits, some boiled sweets, Oxo type cubes (labelled bouillon) chocolate bars etc., - not the stuff to subsist on in sub-zero temperatures!
Another 鈥渟upport鈥 item was the 鈥渂athing unit鈥. No matter how arduous the conditions were, such a unit was set up not so far away. If it was too far away we went by truck. It consisted of a canvas arrangement whereby you proceeded down passageways into a shower chamber with ten or so showers and then to a towelling chamber. The commencement started by you putting your private possessions plus boots, into a drawstring bag. You stripped off everything else and there was a small mountain of gear including khaki uniforms 鈥 all to be processed. When you were dry (you carried the bag through the system) there was an issue of clean shirts, underclothes, socks and uniforms to put on 鈥 so you were comfortable and clean again. The hot water was delivered by wood boiler and a pumping system.
I suppose the Americans would have something similar but the Germans. No. One thing the old sweats told you was not to use German accommodation of any kind, do not use German slit-trenches 鈥 unless you had to. These places literally stank of the de-lousing powder which was particularly vile. All German prisoners smelt of it and nearly all were 鈥渓ouse-bound鈥.
However, back to Namur. It was January 1945 and on the rocks the snow was compacted to ice. We were put into an auberge situated on a hard bend in a main road following the course of the river. The wall had gone and there was a twenty foot drop. We had nothing to do except to watch the Yanks driving at their usual high speeds and waited to see whether any would drive over the bend into the ravine. I think we saw one. Some soldiers went to their assistance. There were several trucks already there, some in the river. Unfortunately, with the ice, there was no traction.
Another thing I recall was the number of flying bombs that passed overhead, almost one every five minutes, in the direction of England which was being randomly bombed.
Our next move was to Helmond in Holland, near Leo鈥檚 birthplace, Tilburg. Here we were 鈥渟tood down鈥 and had ten days in this attractive, chiefly residential town. Our being there was a positive benefit to the people we were lodged with as food was so difficult for the Dutch. Here they had been liberated only 4-6 weeks previously. Conditions had no doubt improved but a diet of potatoes only was the norm. I saw people there riding bicycles with no tyres.
We were welcomed everywhere though.
Our next move was north to Nijmegen where we were lodged in a convent. When we arrived there was an artillery barrage being fired and it lasted all the time we were there. I later learnt that it was, at that time, the most massive barrage ever fired 鈥 bigger than el Alemein and I quite believe it. Of course we were to be involved. This was the overture to the 鈥淏attle of the Reichwald Forest鈥.
We moved up (on foot). There were new things to see.
At night we were illuminated by 鈥渁rtificial moonlight鈥. I have never heard of it being alluded to since. This was considered important and was achieved by the playing of numerous searchlights on the undersides of clouds so the light reflected downwards. Semi-daylight at night!
The other was a multiple rocket launcher (nicknamed 鈥淪talin鈥檚 organ pipes鈥). I don鈥檛 think the Russians had anything to do with it though. I remember marching along in single file when one was set off. At one moment there were numerous soldiers plodding along. At the next there was not a soul to be seen. The noise was indescribable and put the wind up everybody.
There was a brick barn on the roadside which had been set alight. It was now roofless but was full of smouldering hay. It was an oasis on a freezing rainy night! We all sat in it for an hour or two (it was February after all). Unfortunately, I scorched my boot slightly.
The Horrocks biography paints a good picture of the conditions under which we carried on.
Eventually, we made the 鈥淪tart Point鈥. I was in the 4th Welch Regiment. The brigade consisted of two other battalions. The 1st/5th Welch and a unit of Royal Welch Fusiliers. The system was that each unit advanced through the other two, taking turns. Each cycle took about 24 hours. One unit would be attacking, one 鈥渟tanding-by鈥 and the last one resting. It rained incessantly and what had been forest track became thick mud. The forest was a vast physical feature, bigger than any forest in Britain. A primeval forest of massive conifers. We met little resistance.
After about five days we attained our final goal 鈥 the Cleve-Goch road.
On one of the advances I had to drop out because my boot leaked. My foot became white and flaccid being so wet. Trench foot had to be avoided. I was to await the Quartermaster鈥檚 wagon somewhere in the queue moving through the mud to get a new pair. Then I had to await the cook鈥檚 wagon later to get back to my unit.
There were numerous Canadian tanks parked about. I chatted with the soldiers when one of them opened the boot of a tank. It was full of cigarettes! Our company hadn鈥檛 had a cigarette between them for some time. I managed to scrounge a carton (10,000) of 鈥淪weet Caporal鈥 cigarettes. I was very popular when I got back. Luckily I was a passenger in the cook鈥檚 jeep so could carry the carton.
It was during a 鈥渟tand-by鈥 I met a Catholic padre. His name of Fr. Huddlestone 鈥 a Lancashire name. The same name as the priest who inducted Charles II into the Church on his deathbed. He also was a Jesuit and knew my cousin, Loy. He also knew my father鈥檚 employer鈥檚 family at a Jesuit school 鈥 a small world!
During our passage through the Reichwald Forest our platoon was called upon to do a special task. Our Major (Lewis) produced an aerial photograph of a fortification. It was a large concrete fort built in the shape of a star. There were five or so ravelins made of concrete with a circular concrete ditch behind centred with a round concrete pillbox with gun slits. From the sky you could see various lines of fire cleared in the forest. It looked very daunting. We were to follow several Sherman tanks and it was a night operation.
It was a damp squib I think. We did the following. The tanks let fly for some time. We ran forward: entered the complex: somebody kicked open a door (which was open) and there was seemingly nothing but darkness! A light shone round revealing a person sitting in a corner. It was a boy! He was dressed in uniform. Our German speaker got no sense. He was a poor, dirty, frightened wretch. Only about 13 or 14. We treated him with sympathy and the general conclusion was he was Polish. At this stage of the war the Germans forced numerous Eastern European persons into their army.
When we reached our final destination we had to finally dig in. This was to make a slit trench for two men. The Yanks called them 鈥渇ox holes鈥. This was about eight feet long and five feet deep.
I dug mine with a Private Schwarz, an older Jewish man. Where we were there were heaps of cut logs each about five feet long. We decided to make a sort of bivouac by digging an annex sub-terrain sleeping chamber. We laid pine fronds to sleep on and built a roof three logs deep. We thought we were comfortable and safe. Schwarz was about 35 and had been a trouser maker in Saville Row (like Saw鈥檚 friend Ginger, Colette). Also he told me that if by chance we both became prisoners, I would be safe but he as a Jew would not.
Where our battalion ended up was a most unsafe position; we were on the tip of a salient. The 53rd Welch Division had advanced quickly and easily. The Divisions to the left and right of us had a harder time. I think the mud slowed them up and we thus found ourselves exposed.
In his talks on T.V. (mentioned in the book) Sir Brian Horrocks (Corps Commander) explained that the charts they used to plan events were unclear in an important matter. The planners supposed the roads were metalled roads and in the event they were not. They were just forester鈥檚 tracks and with all the trucks and tanks using them, quickly became mud trails. It rained all the time.
At first I think the Germans had been wrong-footed. Perhaps they thought the forest to be a natural obstacle. It was considered part of the 鈥淪iegfried Line鈥. They quickly came to terms. We became targets for snipers. The Cleve-Goch road was at a higher level to us. There were also several houses and the riflemen used these. Artillery fire had been brought to bear on them 鈥 to no avail. We lost a great number of soldiers to them (including yours truly).
They also used anti-tank rockets called 鈥淧anzer-fausts鈥. They were similar to the weapons the Iraquis used recently. On two or three nights they crept up in small groups and fired them at the trees, hoping the blast from them would do damage. It did.
Poor Schwarz was one. He was killed lying beside me in our so-called redoubt. We were chatting and he suddenly stopped. When 鈥渟tand-to鈥 came at about 5am, I found him.
Our company was beset by snipers and we lost a lot of soldiers. I think that by the 15th February when I left, we were down to sixty-eight men in our company and one Officer. The Officers suffered intensely. Most of the casualties occurred during daylight, being everywhere overlooked by the riflemen.
On the night of the 14th February, the frightening clanking noises of a tank (or tanks) manoeuvring about were heard. In our imagination it could have been one, or many. However the noise stopped. It turned out to be a single tank 鈥渉arboured up鈥 for the night. It was clear the crew had no idea we were so close. They were sleeping on the ground. Armoured support was radioed for and two self-propelled guns, 鈥淗oney Tanks鈥 appeared. They soon had the tank on fire and by the light of the flames the crew could be seen running away. Several of them were shot. Then it was all quiet.
At about 5 o鈥檆lock we 鈥渟tood-to鈥 again. This happened every morning because it was thought to be the most likely time for an enemy attack. A legacy of the Great War, I suppose. About an hour later we were stood down.
We were well into the forest. I was standing in a group of about five-six of my platoon. We were drinking tea and chatting about the previous night鈥檚 events. Then there was a rifle shot! I heard it much more loudly then the others for a simple reason 鈥 I was the target! They were all most surprised to see me lying about six feet from where I had been standing 鈥 I had been shot through the thigh. The impact of the bullet had lifted me and dumped me down. I can see them all now with their mouths wide open, holding their dixies full of tea 鈥 it was as if I had done some circus trick. Then 鈥 as one man, they picked me up and carried me at a run to the C.R.S (Casualty Reception Station) where the doctor was standing outside his tent, shaving.
I was very lucky the doctor, Dr C. H. Watts, R.A.M.C. was so near. The bullet had not only broken my femur but was near my femoral artery. My blood loss was great. I was lucky the doctor knew what he was doing too. It all took seconds I suppose. One minute I was drinking tea with the others, the next I was laying on the ground, my right boot incongruously about three inches from my right ear!
I was all patched up, bleeding stopped, sewn-up, I suppose, splinted and a plaster cast put on. I had a plasma drip. During this time another member of our platoon came to the C.R.S. He was shot in the right leg too. While we were having our libation he was attending the German corpses with a view to finding a watch, camera or whatever loot there was. The day was a little too light and our friend, the sniper, had seen him. He was the target! I was a bonus! To have two casualties with one bullet! I was about 陆 mile away too, so the bullet had ricocheted off the ground and when it hit me it was probably spinning. That is why my wound was so large. What a strange happening! By the way, he was shot through the thigh too.
Evacuation was prompt. I was stretchered onto the top of an amphibious vehicle. I did not realise the extent of the flooded areas. Horrocks covers this point. Sitting opposite was the other wounded man. I can鈥檛 remember his name. I do know before the war he played for Accrington Stanley F.C. There were two of them who were 鈥渟callywags鈥.
I was first attended to in a hospital in Nijmegen and thence to Ghent. Both these hospitals had been convents and there were nuns about with the Queen Alexandra nurses.
The Ghent hospital was immense. It was entirely a military hospital with Q.A.M.N.S. nurses. We were privileged, whatever parlous state we were in, to full military 鈥渂ullshit鈥. We all had to be 鈥渟pick and span鈥, well shaved, washed and clean pyjamas (twice a day).
The man in the next bed was deeply unconscious. He had no wound but he lay always in the prone position with his knees bent up to his chest. The nurses were most concerned he could not 鈥渓ie to attention鈥. The sister soon fixed it. She had his shoulders lashed to the bed head and his feet tied to the bottom rungs with pyjama cords. Thenceforth he was always 鈥渁t attention鈥. Whether he had some injury to his abdomen was not thought about.
We waited there some days because we were to fly back to the UK in an unarmed DC3 (Dakota) and they were concerned that enemy aircraft might be about. However, off we went. My stretcher was secured to the floor while other patients were able to sit. We landed at Swindon and travelled by train to Worcester where we were entered into Ronkswood Hospital. It still exists, though NHS.
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